


the last light of day

by Shinybug



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Kaer Morhen, Library Sex, M/M, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:48:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28537608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinybug/pseuds/Shinybug
Summary: Geralt watched him steadily with eyes that shimmered gold in the light from the hearthfire, neither smiling nor frowning, just looking at him. His focus was unwavering, and Jaskier had to look away when he fumbled the strings of his lute, momentarily losing the thread of the song. Something burned in his belly, a long-buried tug of gravity that felt inevitable, though he wasn’t sure where he was being pulled.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 46
Kudos: 438





	the last light of day

**Author's Note:**

> I usually agonize for days over my stories before I finally post them, but I'm trying something new. I wrote this in a rush of words that fell out of my fingers, so I'm posting this in the same kind of rush. Imperfect, hopeful.

Jaskier’s favorite thing about Kaer Morhen, besides the obvious (time spent in Geralt’s company without the threat of monsters), was the library: close-walled with high windows and candlelight and the sweet scent of lignin and leather, and the thin spines of books in haphazard rows along the many shelves.

Three days after his arrival he quietly asked Vesemir for permission to explore the library, conscious that he was in someone else’s home and afraid of overstepping, but Vesemir gave his blessing wholeheartedly. For too long the library had gone neglected, he said, with only himself to appreciate it for most of the year. Jaskier happily lost himself in bestiaries and magical compendiums, burrowing into the gathered knowledge of generations of Witchers past.

Sometimes Geralt watched him from the doorway, quiet and calm, and Jaskier would offer him a distracted smile from the armchair by the fire. Geralt’s mouth would barely twitch, but Jaskier could see the smile there. Sometimes Jaskier would watch Geralt in return, while he and his brothers practiced in the courtyard outside the window, kicking up white bursts of snow with their feet and swords, and though Geralt never looked up Jaskier had a feeling he knew he was being watched. After so many years they were aware of each other in ways that most others wouldn’t have been. It felt natural, but also burned gently beneath Jaskier’s skin without the distraction of the Path to tamp it down.

One afternoon Jaskier was perusing a shelf he hadn’t examined yet, dragging his fingertips over the cracked leather spine of a book so old the title had faded, when he heard the stomping of many feet down the hallway toward him, pausing at the door. Curious, he turned and locked eyes with Geralt, flanked by his brothers but looking at Jaskier, only Jaskier, laughing at something Eskel said but that Jaskier didn’t catch, because he was consumed with looking back. His heart caught in his throat and Geralt’s eyes glowed gold, shifting and molten. With laughter his face was transformed, the corners of his eyes crinkling in new shapes that Jaskier was unfamiliar with but that he found lovely all the same. His pointed canines flashed but didn’t frighten.

Jaskier swallowed hard and clutched the book to his chest like armor, and then they all moved on together, their booted feet scattering snow over the stone floor.

Not for the first time, he wondered why Geralt had brought him here.

~*~

While helping Lambert in the kitchen as they prepared an early supper, companionably chatting at him even though his surly grunts were even more aggressive than Geralt’s, Jaskier felt a sudden presence at his side. Geralt reached around him to steal a bite of carrot out of his fingers, narrowly avoiding the knife in his hand. He automatically smacked Geralt’s hand and felt a huff of a chuckle stir his hair. He shivered and turned his head, but Geralt was already half out the door.

Lambert narrowed his eyes at Jaskier, who just shrugged, trying to seem unaffected. Inside, his stomach flipped. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant.

~*~

After supper Eskel asked Jaskier to play them a song, so he happily retrieved his lute and chose a song of adventure on the high seas. He knew the Witchers had little chance to experience life on the open water, and he wanted to offer them a glimpse of another kind of life. Eskel tapped his foot along with the rhythm and even Lambert exchanged his sour look for something just a bit softer.

Geralt watched him steadily with eyes that shimmered gold in the light from the hearthfire, neither smiling nor frowning, just looking at him. His focus was unwavering, and Jaskier had to look away when he fumbled the strings of his lute, momentarily losing the thread of the song. Something burned in his belly, a long-buried tug of gravity that felt inevitable, though he wasn’t sure where he was being pulled.

~*~

Jaskier had never seen so much white. Kaer Morhen gleamed brightly even in the fading evening light, snow piling high against the walls, disguising the stones under layers of powdered drifts. He stood at the library window, mesmerized by the sight, waiting on the next storm that he’d been assured was on its way. At the moment the whole world was still, hanging suspended on the icy breath of winter.

He wrapped his arms around himself, tightly gathering his own heat. There was a fire in the small hearth that had mostly burned down to embers, but he didn’t feel like stoking it. His wool cloak hung over a chair nearby, a simple and serviceable thing that didn’t match his bright doublet but that he treasured anyway, because it had been Geralt’s. He thought about retrieving it, but didn’t.

He watched the world outside, waiting. He thought of Geralt watching him intently by the fire while he sang, a gaze so heavy he could feel it against his bones.

“Why am I here, Geralt?” he asked, knowing without looking that Geralt stood in the open doorway, hovering on the threshold. He stepped slowly into the room and closed the door behind him.

“Do you...not wish to be?” He sounded uncertain in a way that he rarely was, and Jaskier’s chest tightened.

“I am glad to know your brothers, and to see your home,” he said carefully, staring out at the snow. “It’s something I’ve waited years for, Geralt, something I was afraid to ask for, so for you to offer it is an immeasurable gift. To be here, to see it. I’ve never seen snow like this. I’ve never seen you laugh. I know my own reason for being here, but I need to know why you asked me.”

Still he didn’t turn to look, and he felt Geralt come up behind him, close enough to touch. “Because I…”

Jaskier leaned his head back, just slightly, and Geralt stepped into him until Jaskier’s head rested gently on the slope of his shoulder. Jaskier could feel him breathing at his back, slow and steady, while Jaskier’s heart raced like a rabbit’s. He reached out a finger to the window, tracing the edge of the frost as it curved across the corners, letting the crystalline structures melt against the heat of his fingertip through the glass.

“Because I want you here,” Geralt said quietly, a confession, his stubbled cheek catching against Jaskier’s temple, making him shiver. “Because I want you.”

Jaskier braced his arms against the window frame, dizzy with sensation and understanding, and Geralt’s hands slid down his arms to cover his fingers where they gripped the stone. Geralt’s warm breath rushed over the curve of his neck, his lips just grazing Jaskier’s skin.

“Suddenly?” Jaskier rolled his head across Geralt’s shoulder, giving way to his mouth.

“Not suddenly,” Geralt answered, his fingers clenching on Jaskier’s.

The stone bit into his fingertips, anchoring him to something solid. The snow outside was dazzling, gold-tipped in the setting sun, blinding him. He closed his eyes and breathed, soaking up the cold that pressed in from the window and the heat of Geralt at his back.

“Why are you here?” Geralt murmured, and leaned into him so that for a moment Jaskier held their weight.

“Because I want you,” he echoed, half-smiling and overwhelmed, his body tightening against the heavy rush of need that threatened to bury him.

Geralt released his hands and gripped Jaskier by the hips, sliding a hand low across his belly and pulling him back. “Tell me if this is--”

“If you stop I’ll never speak to you again.”

Geralt laughed, breathlessly, and Jaskier memorized the sound. “Empty threat, Jas.”

“Beastly man,” Jaskier muttered, rocking back into Geralt and feeling him hardening already. His knees shook and Geralt sucked in a breath. A pointed canine scraped over Jaskier’s throat and he moaned.

Quick as a flash Geralt turned him around and Jaskier clutched at his shoulders, dizzy and gasping. Geralt’s mouth found his and Jaskier’s whole world narrowed to the taste of him, the subtle catch of his lips, the drag of Geralt’s tongue along his own. Rough calluses snagged across silk, but Jaskier only cared that there was fabric between his skin and Geralt’s. He tugged clumsily at his own doublet until the seams strained and Geralt finally broke the kiss to help, his breath gratifyingly shaky. Geralt latched onto Jaskier’s throat before he was free of the doublet’s sleeves, trapping his arms and making him groan.

“This is too fast,” Geralt mumbled, biting at his skin.

“Or excruciatingly slow, depending on your perspective.”

“I like your perspective.”

“I thought you might.”

Geralt stripped the doublet off and raised the hem of Jaskier’s shirt enough to get his hands on skin, and Jaskier lit up like he was on fire, giving up all pretense of restraint. He flung his head back and his hips forward, grinding against Geralt’s cock.

“Bedroom?” Geralt breathed against his ear, digging his fingers into Jaskier’s back.

“No, here, here,” Jaskier chanted, hitching up one leg against Geralt’s thigh. “Can’t wait.”

“Aren’t you cold?”

“Yes.” He got his hands into Geralt’s hair and tugged until he could find his mouth again, and Geralt groaned. Jaskier smiled against his lips and curled his fingers. “Hair?”

“Everything.” He shoved until Jaskier’s back hit the window frame, the freezing glass sliding against his shoulder.

“What if they come in?”

Geralt shook his head. “They won’t.”

Jaskier fought to get Geralt’s breeches open, a difficult feat with no space between their bodies, then his cock was silken and hard and warming the bare skin of Jaskier’s belly. Geralt hissed and moved against him.

“I can’t touch you like this,” Jaskier said, wiggling his trapped fingers. “And I desperately want to touch you.”

“Fuck,” Geralt muttered, backing off and taking Jaskier’s face in his huge hands. “I want too many things.”

“Let’s just start with this, then,” Jaskier said as he wrapped his hand around Geralt’s considerable girth, “and forge a path from there.”

“Hmm,” Geralt rumbled, pressing his forehead to Jaskier’s and thrusting into his grip, seemingly unable to stay still. “Your fingers are cold.”

“I can stop,” Jaskier said, but he didn’t.

“I like it.”

Jaskier kissed him again, quick and dirty. “How are you real?”

Geralt just huffed and traced the shell of his ear with a thumb, surprisingly delicately, and Jaskier shivered. Their next kiss was hard and slow, deepening like the shadows around them, inescapable. Geralt gently pushed Jaskier’s hands away and fumbled at the catch of his trousers where his cock was straining to be released. Geralt’s calluses caught on Jaskier’s cock, but it only made the fire in his belly burn hotter, and then they were thrusting against each other, just slick enough to ease the way.

“This is the best idea I’ve ever had,” Jaskier moaned, his fists clenching around handfuls of Geralt’s shirt. “Or was it your idea? I can’t recall now, but I can’t complain about the results, obviously. I’ve waited too long, wanting your hands on me. You’re really good at this, you know? Better than I imagined.”

“Shut up, Jaskier,” Geralt murmured fondly, and swept his thumb over the head of Jaskier’s cock on the next upsweep.

Jaskier shuddered and laughed. “You’re pure poetry, dear Witcher, with your sweet words.”

Geralt kissed him, and Jaskier suspected it was mostly to get him to stop talking, but he had no objection so he just bit at Geralt’s lower lip and got his thigh between Geralt’s for better leverage as they rocked together. Geralt groaned into his mouth and the kiss became sloppy, more shaky breaths and the random catch of lips than a coordinated dance. The window was cold at his back but Geralt was burning hot against every place they touched.

“Jas,” Geralt said, his voice a low and desperate rumble against Jaskier’s cheek.

“I can’t wait anymore,” Jaskier whispered, fire curling in his belly, shaking against Geralt with no rhythm.

“Don’t wait.” Geralt tightened his fist and Jaskier came in hot spurts over his hand, the rush of blood in his head almost enough to drown out Geralt’s groan but not the sight of Geralt finishing himself off with Jaskier’s own slick.

Jaskier dropped his forehead against Geralt’s collarbone and Geralt’s hands fell away, and the two of them just breathed together until they were calm again. When Jaskier lifted his head Geralt’s eyes were dazed, gold rings shining in the last light of day. Jaskier kissed him, because there was nothing else he’d rather do.

Geralt pushed away from him and cold air swirled between them. He looked around and settled on Jaskier’s cloak.

“Don’t you dare,” Jaskier warned, but Geralt wiped his hands on the wool and smirked at him.

“Unless you’d rather walk back to your room like this…” he said with an arch of his eyebrow.

Jaskier sighed and let Geralt clean him up with the edge of the cloak. “I have half a mind to make you wash that for me.”

Geralt snorted. “Worth it.”

Jaskier grinned, feeling lightheaded and warm. He leaned against the window frame and looked around at the books on the walls, silent observers that did not judge. He thought of Geralt’s brothers, knowing that there was no way they weren’t aware of what had happened. He wasn’t as bothered as he had expected to be.

“They already thought we were,” Geralt said, apparently guessing at the turn of Jaskier’s thoughts.

Jaskier held out his hand and after a moment Geralt took it. “Did you bring me here for this?”

Geralt glanced away, his cheeks flushing almost imperceptibly in the fading light. “I hoped.”

“You could have had me any time,” Jaskier admonished. “Surely you knew that. I’m not exactly a subtle man.”

“I wasn’t ready.”

“And you’re ready now?”

Geralt stepped up into his space and Jaskier tipped his head back to meet his eyes. “What do you think?”

“I think your bedroom is down the hall, and we have some new paths to forge.” Jaskier brushed his mouth slowly against Geralt’s, a promise of more. “I also think you’re everything to me, and I hope you knew that too.”

Geralt dropped his forehead to Jaskier’s and took his hand. “I knew that too.”

He didn’t have to say anything else. It was in the tangle of their fingers, the desperate grip, and Jaskier smiled, leaning in.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are most welcome, should you choose to leave them. <3


End file.
